Bird-Dogging: an Academy Fan Fiction [on hold indefinitely]

Chapter Three

          Spanish Lit was an easy class. I could probably sleep through it, not take any notes, and still get full marks on the next test. I wished the professor would just let me test out, like my Conversational ASL, Music Analysis, and Experimental Chemistry professors had, though I still had to attend the labs for Chem and write a research paper for Music Analysis. I was leaning toward writing about the trend of mainstream artists using ethnic elements in their music, but I needed to narrow it down. Hmmmm, maybe percussion?

          I was lost in this train of thought when my phone alarm buzzed, signaling that I had five minutes to get to class. I'd make it just in time.

          As I suspected, class was a snore. Profesor Cabreja spent most of his time trying to help students who were not proficient in Spanish understand the basics. How did they even get in this higher level class? I had read all the required material already, and written the assignment when Prof. Cabreja approached my seat.

           "Well if it isn't my star pupil. Finished with the assignment already?" he asked in Spanish.

          "Si, Profesor." I flinched in response to his accent; apparently all Cubans spoke loud and fast though, so I knew he wasn't being unkind as he shouted at me. It was just in his blood.

          He smiled at me and nodded toward the door, signaling that I could go ahead and leave early. We both knew I didn't need to be here. I had read all the books before, I even owned a few secondhand copies for my personal library. Part of me wondered if Profesor Cabreja just wanted me in the class so he'd have someone with whom he could actually speak Spanish. I still wished he'd let me test out so I'd have my Tuesdays and Thursdays free.

          I spent the rest of the morning in my dorm, picking up, gathering laundry to take to the laundromat the next day, and doing research for my Music Analysis paper (read as dance-cleaning). When eleven rolled around, I jumped in the tub and did a quick scrub down. I dressed quickly, stowing my phone in my bra, grabbing my backpack so I could bring home my shirts to wash, and stuffed a sharpie in my back pocket.

          The walk to the diner took half an hour, shorter if I rode my bike, but I preferred to walk. It wasn't exactly a convenient location, but Billy had given me a chance when I first started looking for work when no one else would. Nothing around campus would hire "16-year-old jailbait," so I'd had to look further off. Billy had found me sitting on the curb across from his diner, utterly dejected. He'd offered me a job, and I had been working with him and Dusty ever since.

          I joked once that Billy had taken me under his wing. Dusty had laughed at that, and Billy had told me that old dogs like him didn't have wings, but I'd always be part of his pack.

          A lot of people worked at Billy's it seemed, everyone on crazy schedules. Only Billy and Dusty seemed to be constant and other than them, only I ever managed to keep my schedule. I never minded picking up extra shifts when people had family emergencies come up. Though, it was amazing how often that happened.

          When I was about a block away from the diner, I noticed a big, black Jeep parked up the street a ways on the other side, the kind with four doors. I wouldn't have thought anything of it if I hadn't noticed a huge, tanned guy getting into the passenger seat. Is that the Greek? Silas? I wondered. I continued to watch curiously, but the Jeep didn't move.

          I was almost even with the window to the Jeep now, and I was craning my neck, unashamedly trying to catch a peek of the guy—maybe send him a smile. Or a wave! Maybe he'd come over and say hi!—when my shoulder bumped into something solid. A deep gasp followed. "Oh man, that's cold!"